


Music to Her Ears

by OrangeRaven989



Series: Annette Rarepair Week 2021 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Annette Rarepair Week (Fire Emblem), Annette Rarepair Week 2021, But mostly fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Guitars, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Rare Pairings, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeRaven989/pseuds/OrangeRaven989
Summary: There's a fan who keeps showing up to Annette's gigs. Turns out they both work at the same college and just might be crushing on each other.Annette Rarepair Week 2021, Day 2: Singing/College AU
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Leonie Pinelli
Series: Annette Rarepair Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136132
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Music to Her Ears

**Author's Note:**

> Managed to hit two of the prompts for Day 2. I've completely fallen in love with Annette/Leonie as a pairing, and somehow it always seems to come back to Leonie just having a thing for Annette's singing.
> 
> Also, the tiniest nod to Hilda/Ignatz.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

One of Annette’s biggest fears was running into her students outside of class, especially when she was performing. She’d been a TA for a couple years, and she’d have thought she’d be used to it by now, but it was still just so awkward. Even though she kept to bars and coffee shops that were a fair distance from campus, she’d still occasionally see someone she recognized in the crowd. The winks and grins the next day were always unbearable.

But there was someone else, as well. Someone else she recognized from campus—not a student. A professor, maybe? At least a member of the staff. She wasn’t exactly sure, as she never had any contact with her. But she saw the same face in the crowd, over and over, sometimes at the bars and sometimes at the coffee shops. It made her flush, every time. For… well, a couple reasons, actually. Like, the fact that she had a legitimate fan, someone who actually sought out her performances, was kind of wild. She wasn’t a professional. Hell, she wasn’t even getting paid half the time. But there was someone out there who enjoyed hearing her sing and play guitar enough to keep coming back for more.

Either that or it was just an absolutely ungodly coincidence.

Oh, and also, the woman was really hot. So, like, there was that.

Part of her desperately wanted to find this woman on campus and introduce herself. She didn’t know where to look, had no idea what her name was or which department she belonged to (if she even belonged to a department), or if it was even a good idea to seek her out in the first place. Was that weird? Would it be weird to do that? That was definitely stalking, right? Or was it? Because her showing up to most of Annette’s gigs could also be stalking. Or just… enthusiasm? From a fan? It also had no bearing on whether or not this woman was attracted to her, either. So, like, leaving it alone was probably the best option.

Probably.

She sat in her car in the parking lot of a bar she was playing in just over an hour, gripping the wheel a little tighter than she intended, thoughts darting through her head. First, of course, was the worry that one of her students would be there. Because she had four back-to-back recitations to TA tomorrow, and if any of the students from any of the classes saw her there she’d surely have to talk about it at length. It would be one thing if she taught, like, calculus or something. But she taught music. And she played music. And therefore asking her about it was actually relevant to class. She groaned.

Turning up the music, she sat back and closed her eyes. The sound washed over her. It was her playlist, the one that contained all the songs she covered during her performance: a mix of nineties alternative classics and middle school emo shit, crowd-pleasers abound. Gin Blossoms blasted out of her speakers and she mouthed the words silently, pinching the bridge of her nose and thinking about a whole number of things all at the same time. Luckily she was playing a bar, which meant fewer opportunities to run into students. She knew who was old enough and who wasn’t. And they weren’t stupid enough to sneak in knowing she’d be there. So it was really only her senior class she had to worry about.

But then _her_ face popped up in her mind’s eye. Her pretty face, her auburn hair, her flannel shirt, tight jeans… always a beer or a coffee in hand, depending on the venue. Those deep eyes peeking out at her from an angle—never head-on—just watching. Casually. Not like a rabid fan, more like someone who happened to be there every single time, quietly enjoying the show. Maybe that’s what it was—the casualness—that drew her in. That she _wasn’t_ some kind of rabid fan, someone to be wary of. Annette smiled. If only she knew her name.

Eventually she got out of her car and hauled her guitar in. The owner sent someone out to help get the rest of the equipment out of her trunk, and before long she was set up in a cozy little corner with her stool and her microphone in place, her amp behind her, and no room to even think about shifting her position. The coffee shops were usually better about giving her some space to breathe, but such was life.

She glanced out at the faces among the bar—the room wasn’t big but it was fairly deep. She was at the back with the counter along the side, and the front door was opposite her so she could see who was coming in. The counter was packed, the tables filling up as the dinner-rush began to transition into young-people’s-night-out. Most of the people drinking at the moment had on collared shirts, some had paint-stained tanks, and then there were the rare suit-and-ties. But there was one flannel shirt among the crowd, and Annette’s breath caught in her throat.

Yep, she was there. Again.

She wasn’t even looking her way. Instead she was fiddling with her phone, munching on a plate of wings and occasionally sipping a glass of beer. Hair tied back in a ponytail, sleeves rolled up to expose arms that looked just a bit muscular. She was a sporty woman, clearly. After a moment the eyes that were glued to her phone screen glanced over and caught Annette staring. Annette hastily looked away and pretended to be tuning her guitar, cheeks burning, heart pounding. She didn’t know if the woman smiled at her or not—she thought she might have seen a grin, but she didn’t dare look back to check.

A few moments passed and she gingerly raised her eyes. The woman was back to eating her wings. Notably, she was alone. She usually was, except for one time when she had a couple other women with her. Seemed like work friends, maybe. She hadn’t recognized any of them from campus, but… it wasn’t like she knew everyone at Garreg Mach University. Her eyes darted around some more, seeking out any other familiar faces. No sign of any of her students this time. She sighed in relief at that—one less thing to worry about. She swallowed hard, then reached for her water bottle and took a generous sip.

Soon it was about time to begin, and she strummed a few chords with the amp turned on just to check the sound. Heads turned in her direction. That was always the hardest part—right when all attention in the building shifted from casual conversation and merriment to staring at her expectantly. She was the star of the show now.

Leaning forward, she spoke into the microphone. “Uh, hey everyone, how’s it going?” She hesitated, the crowd mumbling amongst itself, caught between half-heartedly responding and outright ignoring her. She didn’t mind. “I’m Annette, and I’ll be playing some music for you guys tonight. Hope you enjoy!”

A couple people applauded. Like, literally two. Or three, maybe. But she dared to glance over and saw the woman watching her, a smirk on her face, her hands gently clapping. The smirk widened when their eyes met, and Annette swore she saw the woman nod approvingly at her. Her heart fluttered.

But she had to get started, so she quickly put a capo on the first fret of her guitar and fingered a D chord, then began plucking the intro sequence to Dashboard Confessional’s “Hands Down.” There was a mixed reaction from the audience—some of the younger (but not too young) ones seemed happy at the selection. The older ones and the youngest ones seemed bewildered. Eh, whatever. There would be songs for the older crowd later. The youngest were probably out of luck. Annette was getting older herself, and she couldn’t be bothered learning the new shit. Besides, bargoers liked the classics anyway.

She played through her set, getting the best reactions from the nineties songs, especially her renditions of “Tubthumping” and “Save Tonight”—the latter of which got the entire bar singing along. She ended with “Drops of Jupiter,” which again got the entire bar joining in, this time much more drunkenly. The applause when she signed off and started packing up was palpable, and she could feel her face flush and her ears and nose burn. She so badly wanted to turn around and check to see if the woman was still there, but she didn’t.

After packing up her car she headed back in to just relax and have a drink, and to her surprise the bartender flagged her down. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Got a free drink here for you,” the girl said, handing her a whiskey sour, her usual. “Figured you’d want this one.”

Annette accepted the drink and took a sip, letting it flow through her. It was perfect. “Thanks,” she replied, smiling and sticking out her tongue. “Is this ‘cause I played such a good show?”

The bartender shook her head. “No, someone bought it for you,” she said. She glanced around. “I think she left, though.”

The words crashed against Annette’s chest. The drink was… from someone? It had to be her, right? Her mouth was suddenly dry, and taking a sip of her drink didn’t help. She choked on the words. The bartender had just about turned to walk away when Annette managed to say something.

“Did she say anything?”

The bartender stopped and turned back. “Yeah, actually,” she replied. “She said, ‘get that cutie her favorite drink.’”

Annette could feel the exact moment her heart stopped.

“Sounds like you have an admirer.”

She left after one and only one drink, though she really, _really_ wanted to get bombed. An admirer. She had an admirer. Oh dear. She… never had admirers. She had fans who got weird sometimes, but not genuine admirers. This was new. And exciting. And fucking terrifying. And also she still had no idea who the woman was or even if it was her in the first place. But it had to be. It definitely had to be. Not just because she wanted it to be. But, like, that grin, and that nod. And the fact that she was at every show.

Ugh. Feelings. She needed another drink.

When she got home she called Hilda.

“Oh yeah, definitely a stalker,” came Hilda’s voice. “Classic stalker.”

Annette’s pulse was through the roof. She put the phone on speaker and began mixing another whiskey sour in her kitchen. “But, like, maybe someone who’s legitimately interested and not a total creep, right? Possibly?”

“Well, yeah, possibly,” Hilda replied. “But do you wanna take that risk?”

Annette shook the concoction and poured it into a glass, forgoing the orange peel and maraschino cherry due to lack of available resources. “I’d feel more threatened if it was a dude,” she replied before taking a sip. “But I know how hard it is to talk to other girls I’m interested in, so… maybe she’s just shy?”

Hilda was silent for a moment. “Okay, sure,” she said. “I mean, Ignatz had no idea how to talk to me at first, either, and he’s a guy. So you could just be dealing with someone who has trouble with relationship stuff.”

“So you don’t really have any advice after all.”

Hilda giggled. “Guess not,” she said in a singsong voice. “You’re probably better off just trying to find this chick on campus and asking her directly. At least now you’ve got an in, right? Just be like, ‘Hey, I saw you at the bar the other night’ and go from there.”

Annette squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, then took another long sip. “So you want _me_ to stalk _her_ , then.”

“I’m not saying to look up her schedule or anything,” Hilda said. “Just, you know, if you see her, say hi. Go for it, girl.”

Annette hung up and sat in her chair, drinking. And squeezing her eyes shut and blushing and trying to slow her heart rate. And drinking. She groaned and kicked her feet like a child. Then she drank some more. And then it was morning and she had four back-to-back recitations to TA, and her head was pounding. Sometimes life was just garbage.

She made it through the classes despite her nasty hangover, chugging water like it was, well, water, and weathering the jeers from her students. She didn’t even have the energy to call out the underage ones for admitting they knew what hangovers felt like. But by the end of the day she felt better, though tired, and decided to take a walk around campus to get some air and exercise before hopping in her car and driving home.

Music was something special, really. As she walked she spied some students sitting around playing guitars outside and smiled at them. Music had the ability to communicate things that she would have a hard time putting into words otherwise, and sometimes singing someone else’s lyrics just made her feel something she couldn’t name. Of course, she wrote her own material as well, but there was no way in hell she’d have the courage to sing those songs for an audience any time soon. She wondered if her admirer would want to hear them.

And then her breath caught in her throat. She was walking past the athletic fields and spotted a figure by the softball diamond. It looked like practice was about to begin, and a number of girls in uniforms were gathered near the dugout. But someone else was approaching, hauling supplies from the nearby shed, a familiar grin on her face. Annette didn’t even realize her heart had crawled up into her throat until she was choking on it.

The woman turned in Annette’s direction and stopped cold, then lifted her head and waved. Annette was frozen in place. It took a long moment before it even occurred to her to wave back. The woman dropped the bundle she was carrying on the softball field and hurried over, stopping in front of Annette and wiping her brow.

“Uh, hey,” she said, as if she had no plan beyond just simply waving.

Annette couldn’t help but grin. “Hey,” she replied.

They stood in silence for a long moment.

“I… saw you last night,” Annette continued. “At the bar.” She bit her lip, dredging up the courage to ask the next question. “Did… did you buy me that drink?”

There was the faintest shade of pink on the woman’s cheeks. “Um, yeah, actually,” she replied slowly, her voice a little unsteady. “Sorry if that was weird. I just… I really like your singing, and I wanted you to know you had a fan.”

Annette clamped her lips shut just in time to prevent a squeak from escaping. Oh dear. Oh no. This was… yeah, she wasn’t a stalker. She was an admirer. Like, a genuine one. She gave off all the right vibes. Annette’s cheeks burned.

“N-no, it wasn’t weird at all,” she said hurriedly. “I, um, really appreciated it. Like, a lot. It means a lot to me.” She chewed her lip some more, debating whether to say the next part. She wanted to. But it was… not embarrassing, per se, but… maybe risky? Being too eager? Ugh. She pictured Hilda in her mind, telling her to just go for it. She swallowed. “The, uh, bartender told me what you said to her.”

The woman’s eyes went wide and her entire face flushed crimson. “She… did?”

“Yeah.”

The woman coughed and turned away. “Oh, God. Um, I’m so sorry. I know I probably seem like a creepy stalker fan or something, but… I just didn’t know how else to, you know…”

Annette giggled despite herself. The woman turned back, a look of surprise on her face.

“Hey, what’s so funny?”

Annette kept giggling. “Nothing, sorry,” she replied. “Thank you, really. I…” She lowered her eyes. “I think you’re cute, too.”

It was as if Annette could see the blush inch its way up the woman’s entire body. She turned away again, fidgeting and scratching her head. Then she cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Um… I’m Leonie, by the way. Leonie Pinelli. I coach the softball team.”

Annette took the proffered hand. “I’m Annette Dominic,” she replied. “Right now I’m a TA for a bunch of music classes, working on my Masters in music.”

“And singing in bars.”

She grinned. “And singing in bars.”

The woman called Leonie gripped her hand tighter, then must have realized what she was doing and pulled away. “God, I feel so silly.” She sighed out. “I’m so bad at this, I’m sorry.”

Annette laughed again. “It’s fine, you’re cute.”

“Ugh, stop saying that!”

A shout from the dugout made them both turn to look. The team was ready, and someone was calling Leonie over to get started. She shouted back, then turned to Annette once again.

“I gotta go,” she said. “But, uh, would you… maybe… want to get a drink sometime?”

Annette nodded, smiling wide. “I’d love to, Leonie.”

They exchanged numbers and walked off in separate directions, and Annette could feel a song in her heart and the world around her fill with music.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter: [OrangeRaven989](https://twitter.com/OrangeRaven989)


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